


Tie me up (Bring me down)

by RafuMeika



Category: Naruto
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Blood, Dom Uchiha Itachi, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Past Self-Harm, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Submission, Painplay, Shibari, Sub Uchiha Shisui, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RafuMeika/pseuds/RafuMeika
Summary: An Uchiha would never let his eyes be covered, but sometimes Shisui needs it. When everything is too much and he can’t keep his Sharingan off, when memories upon memories play in front of his eyes, placing themselves upon reality like a blanket and making Shisui’s mind struggle to understand what was present and what was past, his eyes needs to be covered. Itachi knows it.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Shisui
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Tie me up (Bring me down)

There are no footsteps, but Itachi feels Shisui approaching. The older Uchiha is not trying to hide his chakra and Itachi looks up from the book in his hands when his cousin appears on his open window, feet hitting the floor without making a single sound.

His hands are trembling and his eyes are spinning black and red, Itachi notices. It’s a rare sight, Shisui is usually so collected. He has a control on his emotions that’s almost scary, but the younger Uchiha can see that control slowly slipping away.

"Hurt me," Shisui says. He still has his ANBU uniform on, blood smeared on it. Itachi fears, for a moment, that Shisui’s already injured, "Cut me. Make me bleed."

It’s not the first time Shisui asks him to do this, and Itachi rises from the couch with grace after slipping a bookmark in his book to not lose the page.

"Strip," is what leaves Itachi’s lips, the command an easy one for Shisui to follow, and pale skin is soon revealed, inch after precious inch. Itachi likes Shisui’s body, lean, built for speed and yet more muscular than most Uchihas.

Itachi reaches out slowly, because when Shisui’s like this Itachi needs to be careful. The older Uchiha flinches when the hand cups his cheek, his breath hitching, but he doesn’t move away and Itachi takes it as a little win. "Level?"

Itachi can see the way Shisui’s eyes are hard and tired at the same time, worn at the edges. He can see _something_ darkening his usually bright gaze. "Eight." Shisui’s voice is rough, like he has screamed for hours. Maybe he did, before coming here. Itachi will probably never know.

The younger Uchiha still nods, his hand sliding from Shisui’s cheek to his shoulder, just the gentlest of pressure to guide him towards the bedroom. They won’t use the bed, though, and Itachi lets out a breath while letting the right mindset wash over him. "Alright. Kneel on the carpet."

The lights are low, and Shisui does as Itachi says without saying a word. "Safeword?" Itachi asks, because he needs to know if Shisui is still present enough to quit if he wants to, but Shisui doesn’t answer and Itachi takes his chin in one hand to force his head up, Shisui’s Sharingan blazing red in the low lights. "You will answer me when I ask you something. Safeword?"

Shisui flinches just lightly at Itachi’s words and harsh tone, but his eyes seems to be more focused now and his throat bobs when he swallows down. "Dango means good to go," Shisui says. His voice is still rough, almost scratchy, but that’s okay, "Water means slow down. Poison means stop. If I can’t talk, I will snap my fingers. One for okay, two for slow down and three for stop."

Itachi hums, satisfied. His fingers bury themselves in Shisui’s unruly hair, easing the knot of the hitai-ate and letting it fall on the ground with a quiet sound, muffled by the carpet. "Good boy," he says, and Shisui shivers. Itachi sees the way he wants to lower his head, but he won’t unless Itachi tells him to.

"Arms behind your back," The order is given firmly, and Shisui folds his arms behind his back immediately, hands closing almost too tightly around elbows while Itachi reaches for the ropes safely stored under his bed.

He takes one, uncoiling it slowly and skillfully organising it in a workable loop. Itachi easily finds the centre point of the rope, folding it and straightening it out until the full lenght is folded double.

Shisui doesn’t even twitch the entire time, merely letting his head hang low now that Itachi isn’t keeping his head up anymore, but he does twitch when he feels the rope wrapping around his wrists, and then up and around his arms, Itachi’s warm hands sliding over Shisui’s exposed skin while checking the knots as he makes them.

Itachi doesn’t stop. Up to his shoulders and around his chest, Shisui feels his body fight against the restraint for a single moment before relaxing, not complaining even when his cousin tightens the knots a bit, the rope gently biting down on Shisui’s pale skin.

"Status?" Itachi’s voice is like a low rumble, grounding in a way Shisui can’t explain, forcing his mind to stay anchored to the present when he feels himself drift away. "Dango." Shisui says, and Itachi hums lowly under his breath.

Itachi’s hand finds itself on the top of Shisui’s spine, pressing until the older Uchiha bows down, stopping only when his chest hits the floor, his cheek against the soft carpet while Itachi moveds his knees until they were bent.

The rope doesn’t stop there, tied around Shisui’s waist and through a suspension loop, the tug forcing him to raise his hips higher until Shisui can feel the stinging pull in his muscles.

Shisui can feel the tension slowly fade away, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough and Itachi knows it, the rope now moving around Shisui’s thighs and down to his ankles, his legs kept bent up and then tied to his arms so that he can’t relax them.

Shisui can’t move and _oh_ , he needed this so badly. And now Itachi’s hand is touching everything it can touch, tracing faded scars and what little unblemished skin he still has.

Itachi knows every little scar that’s on Shisui’s body. He knows them by heart, and Shisui shudders when Itachi touches them.

There are those born on missions. A kunai in the shoulder, a shuriken finding its way in his left hip, a burn scar on his right calf. There are those inflicted to him by Itachi himself, on session like these. And then there are those Shisui gave to himself, on his wrists and up to his elbows, faded marks that will never really go away.

Itachi knows what Shisui used to do to himself. With kunais, jagged glass, broken blades. Everything he could get his hands on, whatever he could use to draw blood. Shisui never told Itachi, instead Itachi found him one night while he was cutting himself, tears running down his cheeks and Mangekyo spinning in his eyes.

No one knows better than Itachi how deep the hatred that Shisui feels towards himself can run, deeper than any blade have ever cut, its root tightly woven around his very core, stifling and choking.

Itachi remembers that day, the panic washing over him as he took the broken glass out of Shisui’s hand - _Shisui had punched the mirror, that day, Itachi remembers._ There are no mirrors in Shisui’s house, and if anyone ever noticed, no one ever asked.

Itachi remembers how Shisui tried to wave it off at first, and then tried to explain how it helped to keep himself grounded when Itachi didn’t let go. He had assured Itachi that he wasn’t trying to kill himself, that he had done this for _years_ and _Really, Itachi, do you have so little faith in me?_

But how could Itachi believe him, while his arm was still bleeding, his skin paler than normal, cold sweat on his forehead and his hands trembling?

He couldn’t, that was the truth. Itachi had no certainty that Shisui will not kill himself one day, when everything will become too much to bear, and with a firm expression on his face he had decided, that day, that Shisui will never do this alone ever again.

They had talked about it, after, when Shisui’s wrist was carefully bandaged and there was a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Itachi had had no problems in talking about that sort of things, bringing up BDSM and how it didn’t have to be sexual if Shisui didn’t want to, because they were best friends before anything else and Itachi will always be there for Shisui.

Itachi takes a breath to steel himself, moving in front of Shisui to look at him in the eyes while his mind drifts through memories, one hand in his curly hair to force his head up as much as it can.

The Sharingan is still there, Itachi notices. Usually, at this point, Shisui is relaxed enough to force it back under control, but the older Uchiha _did_ ask for something rougher today, and Itachi covers Shisui’s eyes with a blindfold, earning a little, breathy gasp from his cousin.

An Uchiha would never let his eyes be covered, but sometimes Shisui needs it. When everything is too much and he can’t keep his Sharingan off, when memories upon memories play in front of his eyes, placing themselves upon reality like a blanket and making Shisui’s mind struggle to understand what was present and what was past, his eyes needs to be covered. Itachi knows it.

They don’t talk, they almost never do, and Shisui lets his head hung low while Itachi takes the knife usually hidden under the ropes.

Itachi doesn’t use a kunai for this, because a kunai is too big and things risk to get messy. He has a little pocket knife instead, sharp and perfect for Itachi’s purpose.

The first touch is light, the knife tracing between Shisui’s shoulder blades, the sharp tip barely skimming over pale skin, gentle not to cut or even leave a scratch, and Shisui shivers, a whimper caught in his throat.

Shisui doesn’t beg, he never begs for this because Itachi knows that he needs it and Gods forbid him if his cousin doesn’t give him what he wants Shisui will start cutting himself again.

Shisui’s silence is rewarded when the small blade starts pushing, skin ripping apart like paper. Itachi doesn’t go too deep, just enough to draw blood, the knife moving to paint patterns on Shisui’s skin. Some follow old scars, re-opening wounds long closed, and some others find new paths instead, marking unblemished skin.

Spirals, twirls, abstract little shapes that are slowly starting to decorate Shisui’s skin, and he lets out a sound between a whine and a moan, the feeling of warm blood washing over him, staining the ropes and caressing his body. He finally relaxes, sagging against the ropes holding him in place.

Itachi can’t see it, but Shisui’s eyes flutter shut behind the blindfold as more embellished lacerations mark his back. There is nothing else to think about, Shisui’s world narrows down to the ropes against his skin, the pain of the cuts and Itachi’s hands on him.

The tension drains out of him, not moving, not fighting, not caring, only yielding and surrendering, spineless and supple and obedient, held up only by the ropes, eyes shut, only half aware of the occasional whining note that slips past his lips, feeling heavy and light and clouded all at once.

Shisui loses track of time when he’s like this, and Itachi has to make sure that he doesn’t overdo it. He checks closely on every cut he makes, on how much blood flows out of the lax body under his hands. Shisui is like putty under Itachi’s touches, too much under to really register what happens around him.

Itachi stops when he deems that he has drawn enough blood, and fetches a clean cloth and an empty basin from the same box where he keeps the ropes in. Itachi alwasy makes sure to have everything he needs near when they do this, because he doesn’t want to leave Shisui alone for even a second, and after a small Suiton the basin is filled with cool water.

Cleaning takes time. Itachi makes sure to wipe away all the blood with the damp cloth in one hand while green chakra shines faintly around his other hand to close the cuts one after the other. Itachi doesn’t heal them all the way, because Shisui enjoys the feeling of his wounds scabbing and slowly healing themselves naturally, but he still heals enough to stop the bleeding.

Some already stopped, because Itachi never cuts too deep, but he still checks every single mark he left behind until everything has stopped.

Shisui is still out of it when Itachi carefully unties the ropes and guides Shisui’s body on the ground. They will need to wash that later, because there’s some blood on it, and Shisui will need a proper shower, but for now it’s okay like this and with a hand Itachi takes the blanket from the bed, draping it over Shisui’s naked body.

When Itachi finally takes the blindfold away, Shisui’s eyes are as black as they can be, half-lidded and clouded. Itachi knows that it’s not lust that’s clouding his eyes, because they both know that this is not about the sex. Oh, of course, sex is always grate between them, but this is about letting go, about control. About letting someone else take over for a while.

One of Itachi’s hand easily find itself in Shisui’s curls, Shisui’s head gently lolling in his lap when Itachi sits beside him, while the other gently caress Shisui’s face. Down his neck, along his cheeks, up his forehead. Along his scalp, massaging his temples, untangling knots of hair. Everywhere, and Shisui practically melts against Itachi’s body.

Shisui feels like he’s floating. The world is finally silent and there are no memories playing in front of his eyes. There is nothing to think about, everything important is about Itachi and his hands. Itachi’s stomach under his head, moving up and down with every silent breath. Itachi’s soft voice and- _oh_ , Itachi was talking.

"-You did so well, love, letting yourself go for me. I’m here for you, Shishi, I’ve got you," Itachi’s words slowly drags Shisui out of his headspace, and the older Uchiha blinks a couple of times before craning his neck to look at Itachi’s face and smile. "Ah, there you are. Welcome back, Shishi."

Shisui can’t stop the way his lips curl up in a small smile of his own. "Hello," he whispers, relaxing back against Itachi’s body, his cheek nuzzling gently against Itachi’s stomach.

Itachi bows down to leave a kiss on top of Shisui’s head, "Let me know when you’re ready to get up. I think dinner is almost ready," and Shisui hums, a silent question clear in his voice. "I sent a clone in the kitchen while I was cleaning you up."

Itachi is always a step ahead, Shisui loves this of his cousin, among many other things, and he lets out a sound that seems more like a purr. "Five more minutes?"

The question rips a low laugh from Itachi, and Shisui enjoys the way Itachi’s chest moves under his head, his eyes already drifting shut. "Five more minutes," the younger Uchiha agrees, his fingers never stopping stroking Shisui’s hair. "Now rest, and I’ll be here. I love you Shisui."


End file.
